The Book of Lies
by daphne dangerlove
Summary: Grissom inadvertently triggers some memories from Sara's childhood.  Can he convince her of his love before he loses her to the past?  Mature Content. GSR. Written for the Geekfiction Summer Reading Ficathon.


**Spoilers: **None. This story shares some common ground with my Smutathon fic, House of Love. It is not necessary to read that fic to understand this one. Written for the Summer Reading Ficathon on Geekfiction.

**A/N: **I owe an unbelievable debt of gratitude to csibuckeye for stepping up to the plate and betaing this story.Without her constant encouragement, I would have given up long ago. I also wish to thank Carie75 for her sparks of sensitivity and humor and zamboni12 and her son Patrick for the kindness and love they have shown my family.

The Book of Lies

(1)

**Find Me**

He was back far too soon.

The slam of the garage door echoed through the hall as she was pouring herself a glass of orange juice. She sighed at the sound of it, wondering what had caught his eye this time. The boxes and plastic bins that lined the walls in their garage had proved to be his Achilles heel; she laughed as she remembered the look of delight on his face when he realized that homeownership meant he could take his years of treasures out of storage.

"Sara?"

"Kitchen," she called out as she sipped her juice slowly, her back resting against the countertop. It was only a few seconds later that he rounded the corner carrying a box. "Where's the paint?" One hand rested on her hip as she tried to disguise her interest in the box he was carrying; surely whatever was inside would be more interesting than painting the bathroom.

A smile lit up his face. "I have something to show you." He set the box down on the counter, pulling open the flaps and removing something from inside. "I think this is yours." He placed a small green book on the counter, sliding it towards her.

The edges of her vision started to blur as she recognized the faded gold printing on the cover. She reached for the edge of the counter top to steady herself, forgetting about the glass in her hand. Helpless to do anything about it, all she could do was watch it fall.

A loud crack shattered the silence in the room, and he jumped, looking around in utter confusion. Several moments passed before he realized Sara was just standing in the middle of the kitchen staring at the floor. "Sara?"

"I'm sorry." She stepped back, but the effort was useless. The floor was covered with glittering bits of glass and orange juice. She could feel her heart beating heavily in her chest, as an old fear raced through her veins. As much as she tried, she couldn't seem to keep her eyes from flicking towards the book that still lay on the counter top.

"Honey, I—" He stopped short, the vacant look in her eyes made it clear she wasn't listening. Stepping over the glass, he took her hand in his. "You need to change." He pointed at her wet pants. "I'll clean this up." He suppressed the urge to question her, thinking maybe if he gave her some time, she would come to him on her own.

She nodded slowly, allowing him to guide her around the mess on the floor. They were just leaving the kitchen when she stopped and turned around. With only the slightest hesitation, she picked the book up off the counter and dropped it in the trash can.

He studied her carefully, as if he could somehow divine an explanation for her behavior by just looking at her. His head was actually spinning, as he tried to add up the events of the past few minutes and make some sense of them. But she was like a brick wall; her face betrayed none of her thoughts.

She felt the heat of his gaze on her and knew she should try to explain this to him but her brain seemed to be trapped in some kind of haze, and she couldn't see through it, so she said the first thing that came to mind. "It was just a silly diary." Her heart ached at how easily the lie fell from her lips. She turned away from him then, making her way down the hall, suddenly needing the quiet refuge of their bedroom.

He watched her walk away, as if in some kind of trance. When she had finally disappeared, he walked over to the trash can and looked down at the book; he couldn't help but wonder what secrets it held. He bent down to retrieve it, but stopped just as his hand was about to close around the spine; this was Sara's story to tell, and he wanted to hear it from her.

He found her sitting on the end of the bed staring off into space, her wet pants in a heap on the floor. Sitting down beside her, he wondered what he could possibly say to fix this mysterious part of her that seemed to be broken. A thousand different questions sat on the tip of his tongue, but he possessed the wisdom not to ask them in this moment, instead he just sat next to her, letting the silence wash over the both of them.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed when he felt it; the slide of her hand along his arm followed by the weight of her head on his shoulder. He slipped an arm around her, pulling her close.

She closed her eyes as she relaxed into his embrace. There was something about the way he held her that made her feel safer than any other place in the world regardless of what was going on around her. She put her hand into his, twining their fingers together as she tilted her head to look up at him.

In that moment, he saw through her, right to bottom of her soul. His heart nearly broke at the emptiness he saw there; her love had opened his heart, and he only wanted to do the same for her. His eyes drifted shut as he brought his mouth down on hers, knowing only one way to bring her back from this pain.

A low sound came from the back of her throat as she felt the press of his lips against hers. It was the life line she needed, and she reached for him, pulling his head down to deepen the kiss. She ran her hands over his chest, letting her confusion and pain fade away on the strength of her desire for him.

He felt her need as if it was his own; her touch lit a fire inside of him and he could think of nothing but the feel of her skin against his. He pulled her into his lap, his hands sliding under her shirt, and cupping her breasts. He circled her nipples with his thumbs, sucking in a breath as his felt them tighten at the contact.

A low hum of desire escaped her lips as his hands moved across her skin. She breathed in the scent of him and felt the ache in her soul start to ease even as her need for him increased. He was the only thing in her life that ever seemed to heal her, yet some small part of her still refused to believe he was real. Pulling her shirt over her head, she leaned into his touch, pushing a nipple into his mouth.

He circled it with his tongue, tugging on it with his teeth. Drawing her closer, he let his hands roam over her body; the feel of her skin was as familiar to him as his own, yet he knew he would never be able to get enough of her.

She gasped as she felt his hands on her hips, pulling her down against the hard ridge of his cock. A rush of pleasure spread through her at the contact. Grinding her hips against him, she pushed him back onto the bed, falling forward and bracing herself with a hand on either side of his body.

He looked up at her, into her eyes, and saw the way she loved him despite the doubt and fear that seemed to cloud her heart. Reaching up he pushed the hair away from her face, hoping she saw the same thing in his eyes. His hand drifted over her cheek, and she gasped as a tremor rocked through her body. He could tell she was about to come and he pressed himself against her, letting her ride out her pleasure on top of him.

The soft grunt of her name from between his lips was all she required to find release, and she gave into the need that threatened to overwhelm her. Dropping onto his chest, she let the slow pulse of her orgasm washed over her, pushing back the dull pain in her heart just enough to tell her that she needed so much more from him.

He wanted to hold her in the safety of his arms, with her head pressed against his chest, their bodies entwined; his only wish that she would finally know that there was no secret so terrible that she could not tell him. But Sara was already moving to straddling his hips, her fingers working the buttons on his shirt.

She looked down at him, soaking in the sight of him lying on the bed before her. She caught his gaze with her own, wanting nothing more than to lose herself in the feel of his body for as long as it took to erase the memories that haunted her. She parted the fabric of his shirt and ran her hands over his bare chest. His skin was warm and soft, and she could feel the beat of his heart under her hand.

He wasn't a fool; he could see what she was doing, pulling him in and pushing him away at the same time, but he couldn't fault her. The only thing he could do was love her through it, all the while hoping that this would be the time that would change everything.

She caught his gaze for a split second, and knew he wanted more from her. But as much as she wanted to give it him, this was all she had, and right now. She sighed softly as she slid her hands down the length of his body, letting them rest momentarily at his waist before unbuttoning his pants and pushing them down over his hips.

He slid back on the bed, kicking of his pants. Pulling her into his arms, he rolled her onto her back, somehow managing to remove her panties in his complicated web of movements. Lying beside her for a moment, he drew his hands over her body, tracing the shape of her as his need grew. He parted her thighs, stroking her center lightly before moving to lie between her legs.

She trembled slightly as the echo of his touch rolled through her. And she could not stop the cry that came from her lips when he finally slid into her. She rolled her hips against him slowly, holding his eyes with her own as the connection built between them. He filled her with all the different ways he loved her and she drank it in, letting him take away her grief.

She wanted more; he could feel it in the way she tensed around him, in the way her breath hitched and he deepened his thrusts. When she'd first touched his arm, he thought this was about healing her, but now he could feel her encompassing him, and he was losing himself in her need. He was slipping away, unable to do anything about it; she felt so good, and it was so easy to let go.

From the moment she felt the hot surge of him inside of her, she was gone, lost in the wake of his pleasure. It was what she had craved all along; this coming together that nourished her soul. And for a time, while the heat of his body was pressed up against hers, she felt new again.

She pulled him into her arms, the steady weight of his head on her chest keeping the world at bay. She stroked his cheek with the back of her finger until she felt him descend into sleep. Then she closed her eyes and followed him there.

Sara was screaming.

Panic surged through him as he pushed off the heaviness of sleep, his arms already reaching for her. He drew her into his embrace, cradling her head in his hands. Most of the time just the warmth of his body would soothe her back to sleep, but he could tell in the way she pulled away from him, that this was not going to be one of those nights.

She struggled against him, a familiar sense of panic threatening to overwhelm her as she kicked off the covers, desperate to get away from the fragments of the nightmare that seemed to cling to her skin. She pulled her robe from the end of the bed, and slipped it on.

He watched as she started to pace beside the bed; it had been a while since she'd had a dream like this one. They'd all but disappeared in the weeks since they'd moved into the new house. He'd begun to think she'd reached a deeper level of contentment, finally accepting the possibility that he loved her without reservation. But now that seemed to have vanished and he felt an immeasurable sense of regret as he realized that he had brought this on with his discovery in the garage.

She rubbed her temple trying to assemble the distorted images from her dream, knowing there was a message in there somewhere. "I'm going to get some water." She needed to do something to get rid of the restless feeling that seemed to infect every cell in her body.

There was something in the empty look she gave him that set off an alarm inside his head. "I'll get it." He threw back the blankets and climbed out of the bed; he knew that if she left, she wouldn't be back any time soon.

She shook her head, "I could use the walk." The look of concern in his eyes was so deep that guilt pooled in the pit of her stomach, "I promise I'll be right back." She was already halfway out the door when she spoke.

By the time she reached the kitchen, she knew what she had to do, and her heart was beating so hard, she thought it might come out of her chest. She closed her eyes and leaned back on the counter wondering what was wrong with her; she had been so close to finally throwing away one of the last remaining ghosts from her childhood, but now all she could think about was getting it back.

Kneeling down on the floor, she lifted the lid on the trash can. Panic welled up in her again, when she didn't see it lying on the top, and she was about to dump the contents out on the floor when she caught sight of the top corner pushed up against the side.

Her hand closed around the cracked spine and a twisted sense of relief coursed through her. Turning it over, she allowed herself to really look at it for the first time. The cover had faded since the last time she had seen it; and the gold letters that spelled out Diary had nearly worn away. She couldn't count the number of times she'd tried to bury this book, only to rescue it later.

She could already feel its hold over her as a knot formed in the pit of her stomach. Clutching it tightly, she crossed into the living room, and sat down on the couch, setting the book on her lap and lifting the cover. She didn't need to read the words to know what was written there, but somehow tracing the letters with her finger brought back the sick sense of calm the diary had once afforded her.

Property of Sara Sidle

1980

She remembered writing those words as if it were yesterday; the pungent smell of the marker mixing with the musty smell of the paper. She was still sitting there, thinking about turning the first page when she heard his voice come to her from down the hall.

"Sara?"

Shutting the book with a loud snap, she shoved the diary between the couch cushions mere seconds before he appeared in the doorway.

"Come back to bed," he said, holding out his hand to her. He didn't even want to know what she had been doing any more; all he wanted was to know that when he woke up, she would be at his side. The rest he would worry about later.

She nodded as she crossed the room, trying to ignore the heavy weight upon her heart. She slipped her hand into his; letting him lead her back to the bedroom all the while knowing sleep would be a long time coming.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep.

And miles to go before I sleep.

_**(Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening)**_

(2

**Tell Me**

He was looking for his glasses, but that wasn't what he found.

The little green book was under the middle cushion of the couch in the living room, and he had to admit that he wasn't that surprised to find it. Despite the fact that he had seen her throw it away, somehow he had known it would come back one way or another. She just hadn't been the same since she'd seen it, and he knew there were things that Sara had spent her whole life trying to forget, but couldn't let go of. Without question, this was one of them.

Once again, he was overcome with the urge to open the book, just to get a glimpse of what haunted her; maybe even find a way to help her regain her balance. Now that he held it in his hands, he realized the diary had become the symbol of something bigger to him; a way to finally get through to that last little part of her that couldn't believe in his love for her.

The sound of the front door opening broke his reverie though, and he slid the book back in its hiding place seconds before Sara appeared in the doorway with the dog close at her heels. It occurred to him that this must have been what she had been doing when he'd come to take her back to bed the previous night.

"They were in the Denali." She leaned against the door frame, lifting the flap on her messenger bag and pulled out his glasses, case and all. "Maybe you'll think twice next time you decide to get fresh with one of your subordinates in the company car."

"Funny." Smiling at her, he crossed the room, knowing she was trying to lighten the somber mood that had settled between them. He leaned over to kiss her on the cheek as he took the case from her. "You're off now?" His heart began to beat faster when she nodded, and he wondered if an opportunity had just been laid in front of him.

There was something in his face that unsettled her, and her eyes flicked unconsciously to the couch. "I'm going to take Bruno for a run, if you don't mind." She wasn't ready to talk, and if she stayed that is exactly what he would want her to do.

He said nothing in reply, instead he held her gaze for a moment, asking her to stay, wanting her to understand that there was nothing she needed to hide from him.

She touched him lightly on the cheek, more to ease her own guilt than the disappointment evident on his face. "I won't be gone long." The words sounded hollow, even to her, but there were too many questions in his eyes that she knew she couldn't answer.

He just stood there, watching her walk away from him yet again

He woke with a start, surprised at the darkness that enveloped the room. Fumbling around, he managed to find a light and turn it on. He rubbed his eyes and glanced at the clock with a sigh. He wished he could have said he was surprised that Sara hadn't come to find him when she'd returned from her run.

She was pulling away from him, and he knew he had to stop it. He'd wanted her to come to him, trust him with whatever burden she was carrying, but as he sat in the dim light, he finally understood this wasn't about what he wanted, it was about what she needed.

And he knew what he had to do.

He found her out on the patio. She had spread out a blanket on the ground, and was lying on her back looking up at the night sky. Bruno was curled into a ball next to her, and her hand was resting on his back.

He sat down beside her, leaning back against the low stone wall that enclosed the outer edge of the patio. "I love you," he said quietly, "and there is nothing you can tell me that is going to change that."

Sara's eyes flicked over to him; of all the things she'd expected him to say, declaring his love was probably last on the list. "This isn't about love."

"I think it is."

She wished he didn't know her so well; a few more days and she would have had all of this under control, swept back into the past where it belonged.

"I found this today." He handed her the book. "I thought you'd want it back."

Her heart tightened at the look he gave her, and she felt as if all the air had been squeezed from her lungs. All he'd ever done was love her, yet she couldn't find a single way to tell him what this diary was to her.

"You can tell me," he said softly. He reached out and took her hand.

"I can't." She choked on the words as they left her mouth.

He sighed as he looked into her eyes. There was an emptiness there that he longed to fill, but the truth was in this moment he was as lost as she was.

She sat there looking at him for a long time, wondering what she could say to make him understand. In the end, she just decided to tell him the truth. "It's a book of lies." She stood up, dropping the book; it hit the ground with a dull thud and then she was gone.

He let her go as he bent to retrieve the book. He held it in his hands, staring at the cracked cover, collecting the courage to go after her. He caught her hand just as she was about to enter the house. "I am not going to settle for anything less than all of you."

It was the sound of his voice that finally touched her; there was a familiar desperation in it that echoed inside of her and drew her to him. And so she relented, allowing him to lead her back to the blanket. After sitting down next to him, she held out her hand, and he placed the book in it.

Just holding it in her hands, she felt the shame and desperation of her nine year old self nearly overwhelm her. She turned it over and over, looking at every scuff, every crack as if she was seeing it for the first time. "I got this at the Salvation Army. They were going to throw it away."

He felt his breath catch in his throat; he didn't dare interrupt her for fear that she might stop talking.

She let it fall open in her hands; there was no way to really explain to him what this book meant to her, other than sharing it with him. She took a deep breath, and then she began reading from the page that fate chose.

"Dad organized a softball game with all the kids in the neighborhood. My team won. I think we played for hours. He said I was the best of everyone and I'm getting my own bat and glove so we can practice together."

She turned the page, and he could see the slight tremble in her hand, but she kept reading.

"We planted roses in the garden today. Mom said they will be huge and pink when they bloom. Pink isn't my favorite color, but I know she loves it. If I could, I'd paint the whole house pink for her."

He was silent for a moment, unsure of what to say to her. The words he had just listened to were not at all what expected to hear, but the look on her face told him there was a lot more to the story than what she had just read. He didn't speak, instead he reached out and took her hand.

"It's not true; I made every word in the book up." She closed the diary, holding it so fiercely in her hand that her fingers turned white. "It seems so stupid now, but I can still feel how badly I wanted it to be true." She rubbed her hand across her forehead as if she could somehow force out the memories that remained. "All I see when I look at that diary is a screwed up little girl who had to make up lies to feel loved."

He felt it then, a flicker somewhere inside of him, a deep recognition of the hopelessness she fought against every day. And in his mind's eye he saw why she was so relentless, why she never gave up. "That book, it isn't lies. It's hope." He was holding onto her hand so tightly he didn't think he could let go if he tried.

Hope wasn't a word she'd had much experience with, and even now she was struggling to find it, but more than anything she wanted to believe him. "There was this awful wallpaper in my parent's bedroom." She shook her head, "Cabbage roses. Back then I thought it was hideous, but sometimes I would find her in there, just looking at the wall as if it were the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. If my mom could have planted roses, those would have been the ones she planted."

There was nothing he could really say when all he wanted to do was weep for all the little things that she had lost along the way. He found himself wondering if there would ever be a way to give her a fraction of the childhood she had so desperately wanted.

"I took them to her after she died. It was only after I met you that I realized she just wanted someone to love her." She traced a pattern on the back of his hand. "Still it was a long time before I could even begin to forgive her for loving him more than she loved me. I would have loved her back."

"Why didn't you tell me any of this before?" He spoke quietly, seeing her in a whole new way, wishing he could have known this all along.

"So you could feel sorry for me?" The last thing she wanted in this world was his pity. It had been hard enough to tell him the first crime scene she'd ever seen was her own father's, let alone the fact that her parents could not see beyond their own obsession with each other to even notice their daughter.

"You don't have to carry this alone. Not anymore." He felt a tightness in his heart, a desperate need to make her understand his love for her was so much different than what she had witnessed as a child.

She shook her head. "How do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Refuse to see the ugly in me." She looked down at the book in her hands, its pages filled with everything she never had. Just the sight of it made the loss and confusion come rushing back as if it were yesterday, yet she held tightly to it as if were a life preserver.

"There is nothing ugly about that book. Without it, I wouldn't have you." He placed his hand over the book in her lap. "I want to love all of you, the beautiful, the ugly and everything in between."

Despite the doubt that seemed to plague her, she felt something inside of her begin to loosen as he spoke. He made her want to believe in him like nothing she'd ever known before. "I knew," she said, "I knew you were the one. I just didn't know why until now." Her hand found the curve of his cheek and she rested it there until he turned his head and pressed his lips into her palm. It was like a lightning bolt traveled through her, and she suddenly wondered what she'd been hiding from all this time.

Covering her hand with his own, he wished he could go back and fix it all for her. He desperately wanted to find a way to free her from the memories that haunted her, but as he sat there holding her hand he realized that he had already given her everything she ever needed from him; the difference was that now she knew it too.

She rested her head on his shoulder, running her hand over his chest as she molded her body to his, wanting nothing more than to be close to him. She could feel the heavy pull of sleep and welcomed it as his arms encircled her.

He watched as her eyes closed and her breathing steadied. Looking up at the sky, he saw the dark of night beginning to fade and he wondered about the day that was about to dawn.

He watched the sun rise with Sara in his arms and peace all around him.

_Now let the night be dark for all of me._

_Let the night be too dark for me to see_

_Into the future. Let what will be, be._

**(Acceptance)**

(3)

**Love Me**

She was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

He paused in the doorway; taking the moment that chance handed to him and just watched her, knowing it would only be a short time before she sensed his presence.

She was lying on her stomach doing a crossword puzzle, her pale legs tangled in the dark grey sheets. Sometimes he wished he could pinpoint the exact second when his heart became hers, but the truth of the matter was that there had never been a time when he didn't love her; she had been in his heart from the very beginning.

Sara looked up, noticing a sudden change in the chemistry of the air around her. Rolling over on her back, she smiled at him. "What was so damn important you had to run out of here at the crack of dawn?"

He hesitated before answering, taking a deep breath, memorizing everything about her, from the way her hair curled over her ear to the strap of her tank top that was about to slide off her shoulder, full of the knowledge that everything was about to change between them. "I had something I needed to get." He kicked off his shoes and joined her, setting a bag at the foot of the bed.

She sat up, crossing her legs. "Are you going to share?"

"As a matter of fact I am." He took a deep breath, feeling his stomach flutter as he realized what he was about to do. "Close your eyes."

She shot him a curious glance, but obliged him without question.

"Hold out your hands."

"You know whenever my brother asked me to do this, it was never a good thing." She heard the rustle of paper somewhere, and then felt something smooth and heavy placed within her grasp.

"Trust me." His lips were against her ear as he whispered the words. "Open your eyes."

Sara's eyes fluttered, and then opened. The first thing she saw was the beautiful blue of his eyes. Her heart quickened, and she nearly lost herself in the happiness she found there; she never would have guessed that the pain in her past could have brought her to a place of such profound love.

"Don't you want to open it?" His heart was pounding in his ears from sheer anticipation.

She looked down at the beautifully wrapped box in her arms as if she didn't know how it had gotten there. "I almost forgot," she said laughing softly. She tugged on the wide white ribbon that bound the package and it fell away. Tearing the pink paper off, she lifted the lid on the box. Beneath a layer of tissue paper, she found a dark brown leather bound book, a rose etched into its cover.

She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to slow her pulse. He instilled a sense of awe in her with the ways he loved her. Her hand trembled as she lifted the cover and read the words inside. She stared at it until tears blurred her vision, almost unable to believe it, but it was there in perfect black letters.

Property of Sara Sidle Grissom

2006

"Now you can write your book of truth." He'd been up half the night thinking about it, and he knew without question that this was Sara's way home.

She couldn't stop staring at, captivated by the way he knew her. It was then that she felt something cold brush against her wrist. Looking down, she followed the path of the dark green ribbon marker running down the center of the book.

Tied to the end of the ribbon was a ring. Time somehow seemed to slow down as she reached for it, watching as the light danced over it, throwing tiny prisms around the room.

He tugged on the ribbon and the ring dropped into her palm. Picking it up between her thumb and forefinger, she studied it carefully; three perfect diamonds were set into a platinum band that seemed to shine with its own inner glow.

Tilting it to the side, she caught sight of something written on the inside of the ring. "Beauty is truth, truth beauty." She lifted her eyes to his as the words stirred something deep within her soul.

Taking the ring from between her fingers, he turned her hand over. "You are my truth," he said softly, "And I have never known such beauty in all my life." He had waited a long time to find this perfect moment, and now that it was here, he knew he couldn't have imagined it any better. "Will you marry me, Sara?"

"Yes." She almost laughed out loud from the sheer joy that welled up inside of her. "But you already knew that." She rested her palm against his cheek, stroking it lightly with her thumb.

"Let me?" He couldn't resist the smile that tugged on his lips; he had told her not that long ago that he wanted to marry her, and ever since that night he'd been thinking of a way to ask her that would make her understand what this really meant to him. Looking into her eyes, he knew he had found it.

She nodded, watching as he slid the ring on her finger. Looking down at it, she found herself at a loss for words. Somehow this tiny band of metal and stones represented something she'd struggled to believe for such a long time. She had given him her heart such a long time ago, but for the first time she believed that he was giving his to her.

"This is just the beginning," he said, leaning in to touch his lips to hers.

She met his kiss, sliding her arms around him, savoring the way his mouth moved against hers. He had told her he loved her in so many different ways, but never had she felt it so completely. Need blossomed through her, a deep desire to feel the joining of their bodies, sealing this moment in her memory forever.

Falling back on the bed, she pulled him down with her. She held his face between her hands for a brief moment, wanting him to know how she felt even though she lacked words powerful enough to tell him. Her thumb grazed the ridge of his cheek bone, then the curve of his lips before she brought his mouth back to hers.

His eyes closed as he felt her lips against his and he understood everything she wanted to tell him. He'd never required words to know her devotion; she told him all he needed to know within a single touch. And when he returned her kiss it was with a love born from knowing not just her body, but her soul.

His hands were everywhere at once, and somehow her clothes seemed to evaporate under his touch. She lost all sentient thought though, when she felt the slide of his skin against hers, slowly building her need for him until she could bear it no more.

She sucked in a breath as her hips rose up of their own accord, seeking whatever contact they could find as, the intensity of the moment soared through her. The way he loved her was almost a tangible thing, she could feel it, reaching out and curling around her, and for once she didn't wonder about the origin of it, she just let it sweep her away.

His hand slipped between her legs, and she shivered a bit as he stroked her lightly, drawing a finger through her wetness, and then circling her clit. Groaning softly, he slid a finger into her core. He loved the heat of her, the silky way she felt when he was inside of her.

A low moan fell from her lips as she felt him add a second finger, and she twisted against him, wanting even more from. She tugged on his arm, and he relented, moving to cover her body with his own. And then he was inside of her, recreating her from the inside out. She glanced up at him and the look in his eyes stole the breath from her lungs. She knew this was an amazing thing, the way that they came together and there wasn't a single part of her that took it for granted.

He felt her hands move along his back, as she wrapped her legs around him, drawing him deeper with every thrust. She was all around him; he could feel the gentle pull of her drawing him in and he lost himself inside of her.

The desire in his eyes was so deep, she nearly came from the force of it, but she held on until she heard the whisper of her name in her ear; the sound of it was the only provocation she needed. Arching into him, she felt him so deep inside of her that she knew her soul was touching his.

He felt the spark that traveled through her ignite something inside of him, and then he was gone, sliding away on the pulse of her body around him. He collapsed against her, rolling slightly to the side as he gathered her into his arms. "I love you." He pressed kisses into her hair before resting his cheek against her head.

His voice was slightly hoarse in her ear, and it wrapped around her like a blanket. She traced the shape of his mouth with her fingers as she let the truth of his words echo in her mind. For a long time she had wondered what it would be like to really let him in, to finally know without a doubt that he loved all of her and not just the parts she chose to show him.

And now she knew.

The heart can think of no devotion

Greater than being shore to the ocean—

Holding the curve of one position,

Counting an endless repetition.

(Devotion)

Epilogue

**Hear Me**

A few days passed before Sara finally knew what to write in the book he had given her. She was up early, and Grissom was sleeping soundly with Bruno curled up in the crook of his legs. She knew she would have quite awhile before they would be up and about.

After taking the book out of her bedside table drawer, she headed for his office, wanting him to be all around her while she wrote. Sitting down in front of his desk, she took a moment to breath it all in. The organized clutter that surrounded her created a sense of peace that made her feel at home.

She set the book on the blotter and lifted the cover, opening it to the first blank page. It took less time than she thought it would; the words falling from the tip of her pen as if they had already come to her in a dream.

After she had finished, she sat back thinking of the path that had brought her to this time and place. It filled her with a sense of amazement to know that her little book of lies had brought her to the truest love that she had ever known.

Sara was busy in the kitchen making breakfast when he decided to take a quick detour into his office to check his email. He noticed the book the moment he entered the room; it was sitting in the center of his desk, a paperweight holding it open. Even from where he stood he could see the writing on the page.

He never thought it would be possible for Sara to become more beautiful to him, but in the past few days that was exactly what had happened. Together they read through the rest of her diary, and he had listened to her tell him the story of her life in carefully chosen words.

He found himself full of curiosity as to what she had written in the book, and he hurried across the room. Sitting down at the desk, he brushed the paper weight aside, and pulled the book toward him and began to read.

_This is a story about truth._

_Discovering my own truth has been the hardest thing that I have ever done, but finding you at the end of my search made every moment a worthwhile one._

_This is a story about love._

_And all the things that love brings to bear: A home, a family, a child._

_This is a story about us._

**End.**


End file.
